Two months passed with the frightening speed of a lit fuse.
The long days of June and July were dedicated entirely to preparation. Tiera had reluctantly quit her cashier position at the Chinese restaurant, a decision that weighed heavily on her.
The kind-hearted couple who ran the establishment had given her stability and safety during her most vulnerable years; they felt like the closest thing she had to a found family. However, to maintain the secrecy of the wizarding world and ensure her immediate departure, she could not simply tell them the truth.
The explanation she offered was complex, involving a delicate, strategic reveal of her magical nature. Tiera showed them the stiff, official letter from Hogwarts, then demonstrated her simplest, least aggressive spells: the Levitation Charm, a small Illumination Charm to light a darkened corner of the shop, and a controlled burst of Fire Magic that made the couple's eyes wide with terror.
The outcome was a logistical and emotional nightmare. The kindly Chinese woman, her face pale with fright, and the honest Chinese man were convinced Tiera was either being lured into a sinister cult or was dangerously unhinged. They insisted, with tears in their eyes, that they accompany her to this rendezvous with the "gamekeeper" on July 31st to ensure her safety.
Tiera refused, knowing that Hagrid, a half-giant ten feet tall and coated in thick, wiry fur, would likely trigger an irreversible psychological shock in the unassuming Muggles. Her initial magical demonstrations had been stressful enough.
When the couple, frantic with worry, started showing alarming signs of acute cardiac distress, Tiera had been forced to use the only magic she felt safe applying directly to another human: the Cursed Worm technique. She had subtly directed the complex magical configuration, derived from the Book of the Dead, to temporarily stabilize their panicked central nervous systems, mitigating the initial trauma.
The sheer difficulty of the farewell underscored a key principle: the magical world was toxic to Muggles. She had to protect them from the inevitable chaos and danger that would follow her.
Despite the necessary distance she maintained—driven by the memory of her true parents in another life—Tiera genuinely cherished the warmth they had offered.
If she hadn't consistently preserved a respectful, yet formal, boundary, she knew they would have attempted to legally adopt her years ago. For Tiera, her own journey was hers alone, but she carried their kindness as a constant comfort.
"Knock! KNOCK!KNOCK!"
The booming, heavy impacts came from the ground floor, rattling the glass in the attic skylight. Tiera rose from her desk, crossing to the window to peer down.
Below stood a spectacle. A figure of mountainous height, draped in a coat that seemed woven from thick, coarse animal hide and fur, loomed over the entrance. Beside him, small and fragile in comparison, was a skinny boy.
"Hello? Anyone home? I'm Hagrid, the Gamekeeper from Hogwarts! Is Ms. Tiera Wu about?" The voice that followed was a booming rumble, gravelly and deep, cutting through the silence of the old London street.
"I'm coming right down!" Tiera called back, her voice firm despite the sudden rush of adrenaline. She quickly descended the precarious, narrow staircase, her heart thumping a quick, eager rhythm against her ribs.
She opened the door to find the vast, shaggy man bending down to look at her, a gentle, kind expression softening his imposing features.
"Ah, hello there. I suppose you're the Tiera witch, then? I'm Rubeus Hagrid, as I said, and this little wizard is your classmate, Harry Potter." Hagrid gestured with a mitt-like hand toward the slight, dark-haired boy who stood awkwardly by his knee.
Tiera immediately stepped forward, executing the social maneuver she had planned in advance. She bypassed Harry momentarily, moving straight to the giant and embracing his huge, surprisingly soft waist. "Hello Hagrid, it's an honor to meet you! Thank you so much for coming."
Hagrid's scent was not foul, as one might expect from a wild man. Instead, Tiera registered a wholesome, complex mixture of leather, damp earth, crushed grass, and a faint, surprising undercurrent of gasoline—perhaps residue from a makeshift boat ride.
She then turned to Harry, her expression softening into a practiced mask of gentle warmth, and pulled him into a brief, light embrace. "And you must be Harry! Hello!"
Harry, unused to unsolicited physical affection, stiffened immediately, his body rigid beneath her touch, but he didn't pull away. He mechanically returned a slight, tentative squeeze. Sensing his discomfort, Tiera released him quickly, letting her smile convey immediate understanding.
She took a moment to observe him. Harry looked remarkably like the famous actor from her previous life's memories, but distinctly more fragile—thinner, shorter, and clearly malnourished.
He wore clothes that looked too large for him, likely hand-me-downs, and his wild, untameable hair was as black as coal. His glasses were slightly askew on his sharp nose, evidence of frequent roughhousing.
Harry smelled faintly of cheap licorice, a dense, sugary birthday cake, and a trace of youthful perspiration—a poignant combination of neglect and sudden, overwhelming celebration.
Hagrid let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his matted beard. "Well, Ms. Wu, I was going to take you straight to Diagon Alley, but... well, we've had a bit of a day. Your little classmate's awful Muggle relatives, the Dursleys, decided to run off to a shack on a sea island, and it took me longer than expected to track down the poor lad. It's late now. I was wondering if you could possibly put us up for the night? I don't need a bed, just a clear spot on the floor..."
"Not a problem at all, Hagrid," Tiera replied with easy, unhesitating generosity. She had correctly anticipated this outcome. Hagrid's mission to retrieve Harry would inevitably cause a delay, necessitating an overnight stay. To the typical wizard, an unoccupied Muggle dwelling was simply a free, unconventional hotel.
Once Tiera agreed, Hagrid, with the relaxed confidence of someone operating under magical privilege, led Harry into the small building.
Hagrid immediately made himself at home, pulling a battered, pink floral umbrella from his coat. With a quick, non-verbal flourish and a surprising burst of arcane heat, he ignited the cold fireplace on the ground floor. He then peeled off his wet, heavy fur coat and spread it like a vast grizzly hide rug on the floor before the new-lit fire.
"I'll be fine right here," he announced, his voice muffled by the crackling wood. "But can you find a proper place for Harry? The poor little tyke has been sleeping on a rock-hard couch at those dreadful Dursleys' place for years, and he deserves a real rest."
"Of course," Tiera said, turning to Harry and taking his small, hesitant hand. Her touch was gentle yet guiding. "You can share my bed, Harry. My room is in the attic, and the bed is very spacious. It's the only one I have, but you're welcome to half of it."
Harry looked up, his face registering immediate, awkward confusion. "Oh, well... will that... bother you? I don't want to be a trouble."
Tiera had her lines prepared. This was the moment for the empathy hook—a carefully deployed social strategy she had learned during her brief internship mentoring at a university outreach program in her past life.
The goal was to establish an instant, profound kinship by centering the initial conversation on shared emotional experience, thereby dissolving the awkwardness of a first meeting.
"Trouble? Not at all," Tiera assured him, dropping her voice to a soft, confidential tone. "My bed is enormous, and honestly, I grew up in an orphanage too. My... my parents were killed by bad people, and the other kids at the home weren't always kind. I always wished I had a friend who understood what that was like."
She squeezed his hand just once, then released it, making her next question feel immensely vulnerable. "I'm so happy to meet a friend who's just like me... are we friends now, Harry?"
Harry's tentative reserve shattered instantly. He looked at Tiera—a girl his age, a fellow orphan, someone who had faced similar cruelty and loneliness—and his emotional walls collapsed.
"Yes! Yes, we are!" he said, the words bursting out in an almost desperate rush. The strangeness and timidity he felt moments before vanished, replaced by a poignant sense of resonance.
This carefully engineered moment was friendship empathy at its most effective. In unfamiliar, stressful environments (like meeting a giant and being whisked away into a magical world), children are highly susceptible to forming intense bonds with peers who offer a clear, relatable trauma or experience. Tiera's strategy leveraged this—she gave Harry an emotional anchor in a terrifying new world.
It was a cold, calculated move, yet executed with warmth that felt genuine to the recipient. Harry, a child suffering from extreme love deprivation despite his secret wealth, was defenseless against such immediate, targeted kindness.
Tiera, despite her knowledge of the future, was desperately short on funds. The Herlis Potion required steady income, the planned Hydra Venom required obscure, costly ingredients, and the search for the Scorpion-Tailed Snake Gallbladder would be expensive.
Harry Potter, the neglected rich child, represented her immediate, most accessible financial pathway. His friendship was not just a shield against the Basilisk; it was an investment.
As she led him up the creaking stairs to the safety of the attic, Tiera could almost hear the triumphant clink of Galleons in her mind. Her emotional intelligence, honed by years of navigating difficult social situations in her previous and current life, had secured her position beside the Boy Who Lived.
The risks of this magical world were immense, but so were the rewards for a witch who knew how to play the game of loyalty and self-interest. The journey to Diagon Alley, and the promise of that first trip to Gringotts, now seemed far more exciting.